


Snow Blind

by UnabashedHonesty



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: But it’s no one’s fault, But seriously everyone kinda gets beat up in this one, But still fun times with the other guys!, Cast of Supernatural - Freeform, Filming with Cast of Supernatural, Gen, Oh and there’s MotherHen!Jensen in this too, Other, Pretty much overnight, Reader-Insert, So I guess there’s warnings for slight graphic-ness?, Sorry Alex isn’t in this one much, This was in the works long before Jack existed, You and Misha are best buds, You’re one of the guys, its actually just one bad catastrophic after another
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 21:48:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18269930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnabashedHonesty/pseuds/UnabashedHonesty
Summary: Reader-Insert.You’re the newest cast member on the set of “Supernatural.” It’s the most interesting job you’ve had so far, most definitely. Although you initially had an idea of the shenanigans you’d signed up for when you accepted the role, nothing compares you for the drastic turn of events that take place one day, after a long and cold day of shooting out on location.Things rapidly escalate from being just a harder work day than usual to a battle of wills for survival. Stranded, with no cell signal, a crashed transport vehicle, up on the side of a friggin’ MOUNTAIN where nobody even knows you’re missing yet, it’s getting dark and the temperature is dropping by the minute. You, Jensen, Jared, Misha, and Richard have to band together and try not to freeze to death before morning.Sometimes you wonder if these guys hadn’t inadvertently cursed themselves after so many years working in a show called, “Supernatural,” because...there’s just no way anyone’s luck could get THIS bad.





	Snow Blind

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first attempt at this. I hope I made it out to be easy to follow (and to believe) for everyone. I do very much appreciate feedback of any and all kinds — even to scold me for whatever reason. I am also open to suggestions and/or requests. After all, this is your adventure. 
> 
> This is just the first installment to see if anyone actually likes it enough for me to continue ;) So, please, if you think we have something here, please let me know! If there’s anything you’d like me to add/subtract/change, please let me know! 
> 
> Also, enjoy! Xoxo

_Crunch --_

_Crunch --_

_Crunch --_

You wrench your booted foot out from the encompassing blanket of white only to plunge it right back in for the thousandth time. This is just too much snow. Why the hell had everyone thought it would be a good idea to send the shortest two people out scouting for help? Especially when the fluttering cascade around you showed no signs of letting up anytime soon. Perhaps it's your imagination, but you can swear that the snow level is visibly rising with each step.

 

_Crunch, crunch --_

_Crunch, crunch --_

_Crunch, crunch --_

A heavy huff to your right makes you glance over yet again. You can't help but bite your lip as you try not to look like you're examining your companion up and down. Richard has been trudging along beside you, trying (to little avail) to disguise how much pain he's in. He's refused all your offers to help -- even got a little indignant when you suggested that they really only need one person to flag down a passing vehicle, so he should stay behind and conserve his energy. Sure, you got that, just because he was out the use of one arm, that didn't render him completely useless. It's just that it's so hard watching him struggle to take the next step, all the while acting as if you two  _aren't_ clomping uphill, in ankle-deep snow, in nine-degree weather with an additional wind chill, with the last of the sunlight fading far quicker than anyone would have preferred. Is it really necessary to make him come along? After all, it wasn't as if  _your_  eyes and legs aren’t fully capable. If anything, you probably scraped by better than anyone. 

 

Come to think of it, Jensen hadn't been very keen on your idea himself. In fact, if he and Misha hadn't needed to stay behind to help Jared, he probably would have volunteered himself for the job. Friggin' mother hen...

 

Another shiver wracks your frame and this time you're not sure whether or not the bitter cold is the culprit. Sure, you've had some pretty bad days before, but waking up inside of a crushed Range Rover to one of your coworkers choking on his own cries of absolute agony probably holds the top of your list at this point. 

 

Nobody can really figure out what had happened; one minute, the five of you were riding along after a hard day's work on location, your driver, Stephen, regaling you all with stories of his various adventures in his twenty-two years on the job, and the next everything was spinning out of control -- quite literally. Everyone was aware of the blizzard warnings throughout the day, which was why shooting had wrapped up earlier than usual. Everyone thought you had beat the timing; the snowfall hadn't even started yet by the time you were all loaded up and headed back towards civilization. Unfortunately, nobody accounted for the black ice that had accumulated throughout the day. 

 

You don't remember much of the crash, yourself; even when you really concentrate, you only get flashes colors, of your sense of direction scrambling to right itself, Stephen's deceptively level voice uttering a string of curses, someone distantly screaming... (Actually, that last one could have been you.) Then the world had rapidly switched from spinning to tumbling. Somewhere, a window shattered. Then, suddenly, you'd opened your eyes when a shriek you never want to hear again pierced your eardrums. 

 

Misha assured you that you'd only been out a few minutes, but you feel as if you missed a bit more time than that. Certainly, you should have remembered the fifty-some-foot decent down the woody hillside? It seemed as if it had been over much quicker than that... Maybe it's the surrealism of the whole situation... Either way, it's still hard to wrap your head around the recent events; things like this happen to other people, but not to you. There's no way your luck can be  _this_  rotten. After all, how unlucky could you be, having landed a role alongside the biggest group of goofballs you've had the pleasure (and misfortune) to meet? 

 

You irritably shake another layer of snowflakes from your eyes. You can hardly see a few yards ahead of you. The snow hadn't let up since you woke up in the Rover -- which is concerning in and of itself, considering the amount of ground it's (literally) covered in such a relatively short span of time. You half-worry if you'll even be able to spot a passing vehicle in time to flag it down. (Or worse, if said potential driver will even see  _you_.) You're trying not to linger on these pessimistic thoughts; worrying yourself instead of focusing on the task at hand isn't bringing Jared help any faster. 

 

A grimace works its way unto your expression before you realize it. Just thinking about the moose-man's crushed leg beneath the dash -- and the resulting twist of anguish on the usually-jovial face -- is enough to make your chest tighten. In the few weeks you've worked alongside him, you've known Jared to make all sorts of animated noises. Whether it's an over-exaggerated cartoonish voice whenever he boops your nose, or an uproarious cackle as he watches his latest prank play out just the way he wants it, Jared's range on and off-camera is unmatched. Still, it wasn't any less unnerving to hear  _that_ wretched sound coming from his pale features.

 

Stephen had still been unconscious when Jensen sent you and Richard up the hillside and back to the road. You try not to fret, but the particular shade of  _ashen_  that your driver's face had been... 

 

With a grunt of effort, you wrench your foot out of the snow yet again.  _Don't think about it_ , you remind yourself.  _He'll be fine. Jared will be fine. You'll all be fine._

You almost convince yourself before you hear a guttural sigh erupt from Richard. You glance to him, breathing hot air into your fist. You're wearing gloves -- as per your character -- but they're fingerless. 

 

"What do you think the odds are anyone's even still at the site?" 

 

You halt in your tracks mid-step. That thought...hadn't occurred to you. Sure, the backup plan was to trek in the direction of the cabin, alert any remaining crew to what had happened, and hightail it back to the crashed Rover. Realistically, however, there is no telling just how long you all had been stranded. What if everyone else had decided to beat the storm and were already long-gone? 

 

This time, the cold  _definitely_ wasn't the cause of your shiver. 

 

On a whim, you whip out your cell phone for the hundredth time. Service is sketchy up in this area, but maybe...

 

_No signal._ Fuck. 

 

"Still?" Richard prods. There's no need for him to clarify. You dourly shake your head at him.

 

"I guess we better hurry, if we have any hope of catching anybody," you huff, hoping you sound more confident than you actually are. 

 

Richard doesn't appear any happier about the revelation than you do. With not a little frustration churning his features, he raises his one good arm up and breathes into his fist the same as you've been doing. His left arm, he keeps tucked against his ribs. It had certainly been an adventure helping to pull him out of the tipped Rover. You're stronger than you look, but the  _really_ tough part had been ignoring Richard's yelps every time his arm had been jostled. You're almost certain it's broken, if the swelling and purplish hue under the jacket sleeve is anything to go by. It took both you and Jensen at his feet, and Misha up top of the side of the Rover that was facing upward, to lever Richard out. Only two attempts had been made to free Jared from the front passenger seat before he begged you all to stop. The very real possibility that he would have to be cut from the crushed vehicle floated unvoiced above everyone's heads. It had been then that Jensen declared that help would have to be found the old-fashioned way. 

 

Now, time is blatantly running out; whether or not you and Richard reach the shooting location and actually manage to find somebody there, it is getting dark very quickly. It's already well below freezing as it is. Furthermore, aside from a few winter overcoats, none of you are really dressed properly for the present weather. Already, your nose hardly feels like a part of your face.

 

"Rich, you should probably head back to the guys," you hesitantly offer. It takes everything not to let your voice quiver. "Let Jensen know what's up. I can keep heading towards location."

 

"Shut up," he dully reproaches before you even finish speaking. "We're keeping to the buddy system; no sense in anyone else getting lost." 

 

"You're exhausted," you halfhearted argue. "I can probably cover more ground."

 

"You saying I'm slowing you down?"

 

You sigh to yourself. In all seriousness, you don't know why you even bothered, "I'm just saying --"

 

Richard shushes you suddenly. You nearly snap back at him, your frustration finally boiling over at the minuscule insult, but then you take in his posture: eyebrows furrowed low, head tilted slightly to the right behind him, a hand held out to tell you to keep quiet for a moment. Then you hear it: an engine. Coming up behind you. Heart in your throat, you spin one hundred and eighty degrees to find two faint, yellow orbs gliding steadily through the fog in your direction. 

 

A cry of simultaneous triumph and relief leaves Richard before you have the chance, "Oh, praise the Lord, Satan, and everything between them!" He bellows to no one in particular before a new wave of adrenaline seems to surge through him. You watch as he jogs into the two-lane road as the headlights approach. It swoops passed him before he reaches the double-yellow line, but it visibly skids to a halt within a few dozen yards. For the first time in the past hour, you feel like you can draw a full breath again. The relief almost renders you immobile, but that doesn't worry you as you watch Richard make his way to catch up to the stopped pickup truck. 

 

You share Richard's enthusiasm for a few blessed seconds while you drag your half-frozen limbs along to catch up with him. The moment is shattered, however, when the tail lights abruptly move again. This time, it's to whip a sharp one-eighty and then come once more to a complete stop. The gesture strikes you as odd as you stare into the blinding high-beams. 

 

Your steps stutter to a halt once again. A shiver of a different sort freezes you where you stand. You can't put your finger on it, but something feels...off. Why hasn't the driver started to meet you two? Why is it just...sitting there? Call it intuition, but you’re suddenly terrified for reasons you can't put into words. 

 

Without sparing another thought, you call out to Richard.

 

"Rich, wait!"

 

He doesn't appear to hear you. 

 

You return your gaze back to the headlights. An engine revs. You hear tires spinning. Your breath catches in your throat, but not before you summon up all of your remaining voice.

 

"RICHARD!"

 

**To Be Continued....**


End file.
